Just One Kiss
by hasapi
Summary: [WIP] Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin. It was all anyone ever noticed about her...until him. Until the man who changed it all... [Pre OotP with Girl!Blaise]
1. Chapter 01

Title: Just One Kiss

Summary: Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin. It was all anyone ever noticed about her. Until him. Until the man who changed it all… 

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling and other associated people.  

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Chapter 1 

Blaise Zabini stared at the blonde Slytherin sitting in front of her in the Quidditch stands. The game was between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Pansy Parkinson—if that was who she was—was acting very strangely indeed, seeming to hesitate before cheering the team. There was also the fact that the girl in front of her didn't have the same quirks that Pansy had, and she had a few that Pansy didn't. 

And then Gryffindor won. And "Pansy" stood up, looking for all the world as though she were about to cheer them, before sitting down suddenly, looking sheepish.

Then "Pansy" ran up to Draco Malfoy—who was currently dating Hermione Granger—and threw her arms around his neck, once again looking completely natural doing so. Draco looked as though he were going to push her off, but just then, "Pansy" whispered something in his ear—and he suddenly looked a whole lot happier.

 It obviously could not be Pansy, because Blaise _knew_ that Draco loved Hermione, and would not 'drop her' for anyone. She knew that no one really believed a Malfoy to be capable of love, but even if they weren't, Hermione had changed that; somehow, someway. 

Then she overheard the tail end of the conversation. "—our common room." 

Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy did not have a common room.

But Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy _did_. They were Head Girl and Head Boy—respectively, of course. 

There was no doubt about it. "Pansy" was Hermione Granger. 

This was why she followed the two and, when "Pansy" got slightly behind Draco, Blaise grabbed the girl, whispering, "So, Pansy. How are you?" and pulled her into the nearest classroom, thankful it was empty.  The Slytherin let go of the imposter and smirked at her. "Or are you really Pansy? I don't think you are—but I don't know who you are, really." Well, that was a lie, but who really cared?

"Why don't you tell me?" Blaise paused before continuing, seeing that the girl recognized her finally. "Or, I could just wait for the Potion to wear off. And apparently," Blaise smiled, making sure her face was completely devoid of all emotion, "I won't have to wait that long."

Blaise tilted her head, eyeing what looked like Pansy—though it obviously wasn't, seeing as the girl was _growing_, and her hair and eye color was changing. It wasn't surprising that no one else had noticed the discrepancies between this girl's behaviors and Pansy's. Slytherins were a rather stupid lot, she had to admit. Well, Draco and Pansy weren't that bad, actually, but they were all surrounded by idiots.

Now the girl was nearly quaking in her shoes… The transformation was complete. Hermione sat down in a desk and motioned to Blaise to do the same. The seventh year did so, if only because she needed to give her legs a rest.

Hermione cleared her throat. "You're obviously wondering why I'm here…"

"And where Pansy is," Blaise added, smiling. She knew that the sight of a Slytherin smiling very nearly addled the girl's brains.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, well, you see… I realized a while back that…" she paused. "I don't know if I should tell you."

Blaise rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not going to tell anyone."

Hermione eyed her warily, but continued. "I realized that Pansy likes Harry. And actually, not just likes, but loves." Blaise's eyebrows went up. "Yes, I believe that Pansy loves Harry. I don't know why, and Draco finds it as incredulous as I do, but we both agree it's there. Pansy and I switched places for the game. It was mostly for her, since I would have cheered both Draco and Harry without a second thought. I mean, no one would have questioned it. Draco's my boyfriend and Harry's one of my two best friends. But Pansy… well, she had no reason to cheer Harry. And I know she wanted to. So I made the Potion, and offered her the option of using it at the game. She agreed. And here we are."

Blaise grinned. "And here we are." The whole thing didn't make complete sense though, now did it? It didn't all add up. But maybe Hermione was just looking for excuses to bring Pansy and Harry closer together. "Why did you help her?"

Hermione sighed. "That's a difficult question, really. It's partially because Draco's certain that Harry's in love with me. I want him to get over me, and I think that it would be best if someone replaced me. It would be quicker that way. And also because, well, Pansy's really a nice girl. Plus she's smart. No one notices though. It was just like no one noticed me until I started dating Draco. Before that, I was just the know-it-all, Harry Potter's best friend. And even now, I'm not known for myself. It's annoying." She gave a frustrated sigh. "But I'm getting off-topic. I think that Pansy deserves Harry. And I think that if he gets his head out of his arse long enough, Harry will notice her. I want to help him do that."

Blaise tilted her head thoughtfully. It wasn't that bad of an idea. She'd noticed Pansy's slow retreat into the shadows, and definitely felt like jumping at the opportunity to drag the girl out of them again. "Do you think I might be able to help you do that?"

Hermione stared at her, mouth agape in shock.

"What?" the Slytherin grinned.

"It's just…well, I didn't really think anyone would _want_ to help."

Blaise nodded thoughtfully. "I can see why you might think that. But I agree with you. Pansy's smart, and nice, and she really does deserve Potter. What do you say we work on it together? I'm sure that with the two of us, they won't be single for long."

Hermione grinned, and stuck out her hand. "It's a deal."

***

Blaise walked to the library quickly and quietly. Not a hard thing to do when you were a Slytherin. She smiled to herself. There were certain things she liked about being a Slytherin, even if overall it was a horrid place. At least now. She had feeling it hadn't always been this bad. She shook her head. It was all the inbreeding. At least the Malfoys house would find some relief with Hermione. But the Zabini house… She sighed. She'd probably end up marrying her third cousin, Riwen Quindell. 

She shuddered silently. He was ugly, to say the least. And he was at least twenty years older than she was, although it was probably more like twenty-five. But he had a lot of money. And he needed a wife. And she didn't have any beaus herself. She'd never had a boyfriend, now that she thought about it. She'd never even really gotten close to anyone.

She was still a virgin. No one would believe her if she told them, she knew. She was surprised herself…and probably quite lucky, as well. There were not many Slytherin females who graduated as virgins. Of course, she hadn't quite graduated yet, but she very much doubted that much would change before then.

And it wasn't as though she—or anyone—really needed a boyfriend to have sex. There were plenty of girls with living testimony to that fact. But there were quite a few reasons why only a few stupid males had dared to force her.

She was the daughter of two very powerful people—her father and her mother both had large fortunes, and could trace their ancestry back for generations. You didn't want to get on the wrong side of that.

She wasn't afraid of telling the professors anything, and they knew it, as did the other Slytherins. No one ever included her on any of the pranks because of that. She didn't care. Never had. It was much better when they left her alone.

Her nanny, who had raised her, hadn't seen anything wrong with teaching her a few self-defense moves. She knew what it was like in Slytherin house, and so had prepared her young charge accordingly. The few boys who had tried to force her had quickly learned their error. 

She grinned to herself. They'd never touched her again, and she assumed they'd told their friends, since no one had tried anything since her fifth year.

But this really wasn't the time to be getting lost in her thoughts. She was going to the library, in the dead of night. There were some books she wanted to look at without Madam Pince breathing down her neck. Besides, it was much more peaceful at this time of night—or day, depending on how you looked at it.

Blaise Zabini was a lover of dragons. She enjoyed her Care of Magical Creatures class more than any other class, and found Professor Hagrid to be a very good teacher, a refreshing change from her other professors. They obviously hadn't been able to do a hands-on study of dragons, but their book study had been exciting nonetheless. Oh, how happy she'd been in her fourth year, when she'd discovered that the First Task for the Tri-Wizard (or Quad-Wizard, but anyways…) champions had involved dragons. 

But she had felt for them, in a way, with the champions having to steal one of their eggs. At least Potter hadn't overly harmed the creature. Blaise really was a compassionate person, she just covered it up with her emotionless Slytherin façade. It was easier. After all, everyone was so prejudiced against Slytherins that they would sooner let one starve than give him or her the time of day. 

Where had she been… Oh, right. Dragons. And Professor Hagrid. In fifth year she'd approached him about some extra credit work, and, after approving it with the Headmaster, the half-giant had let her come into the Forbidden Forest with him when he searched for creatures for class. She'd also become a sort of class helper, although she was sure not to let anyone know. She really only helped out before and after class, since she knew that both Slytherins and Gryffindors would make fun of her. 

Blaise slipped through the library and walked over to where she'd seen the book earlier that day… Ah, there it was. _The Habits of African Dragons_ by C. W. Alexander. Professor Hagrid had recommended it, saying it had been written by one of Hogwarts' former students. She ran her finger over the elegant gold lettering before opening the book and proceeding to get lost in it. 

***

Blaise cracked her eyes open and saw sunlight streaming through the windows of…the library. She sat bolt upright, wondering what had awoken her. The door closed. That must have been it. Madam Pince had probably just arrived… The Slytherin nearly ran to the shelf and sat the book back on the shelf, cursing herself for falling asleep. Honestly, how _could_ she be more stupid? She could get expelled for this! 

The seventeen-year-old witch padded softly to the door of the library, keeping an eye on the librarian. She was currently turned away. Might as well go for it now… 

She made it out the door and sprinted to the entrance to the dungeons, and barely pausing for breath. Almost running flat-out now, she didn't notice there was someone else in the corridor until she ran into him.

"Oof!" she exclaimed, backing up. Then she saw whom she had run into. "Professor Snape! Excuse me, sir, I was just…"

The professor raised an eyebrow. "You were just what, Miss Zabini?"

"Er, I had been heading to breakfast and then I realized I'd forgotten something, so I was coming back to get it, and—"

"Very good, Miss Zabini," Professor Snape almost smiled, although it really was more of a smirk. "I would have believed you had I been younger than ten… Or," he added as an afterthought, "a Gryffindor."

Blaise flinched inwardly, not letting anything show on her face. Oh, she might have been good at concealing her emotions, but she was one of the worst liars in the business. "Sorry, sir," she mumbled.

"Might I ask _what_ you were doing so early, Miss Zabini?"

"I was in the library, sir," she said quietly. 

"I see…" Professor Snape looked thoughtful. "Well, Miss Zabini, I do hope that you remember not to," he paused, looking at her face before smirking, "not fall asleep when in the library after hours."

"Yes, sir," Blaise mumbled, feeling her face flush. That was one thing she couldn't control—blushing. 

"I will see you later, Miss Zabini," Professor Snape said before heading down the corridor again, his robes billowing behind him.

Blaise shook her head. Did he really have to be so dramatic all the time? Oh well. She was only grateful that Snape _was _rather favorable towards Slytherin. At least she hadn't lost any points for her stupidity. 

It was the last week before the Christmas holidays started. She would be staying at the school, of course. After all, why would she want to go home? All that was waiting for her there was an empty house and a few House-Elves. Well, there was Albert, of course, but who wanted to spend Christmas with House-Elves and their butler? Her parents were dead, killed by the Dark Lord, and she had been any only child. She didn't have very many relatives, either, besides Riwen Quindell. 

She shuddered. How she hated that man. She would rather kill herself than marry him, and she was honestly afraid that she might have to. 

Well, he wouldn't do anything until she graduated. Maybe… Maybe she'd find someone else to marry. 

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 02

Title: Just One Kiss

Summary: Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin. It was all anyone ever noticed about her. Until him. Until the man who changed it all… 

Disclaimer: This isn't mine. What, did you expect me to _own_ it? This is called _fanfiction_ for a reason. Get over it. This isn't mine.

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Chapter 2 

Blaise slipped into a seat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, whispering a quick hello to Draco. He didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, which was fine with her. She wasn't either. She must have been insane to sneak into the library. And then to fall asleep. That had to be the stupidest thing she had ever done. But the book had been so good that she'd kept reading even when her eyelids had begun to droop.

The book was so involved she had a feeling that the author really worked with dragons. One would expect a book like that to be dry and difficult to read, but she'd felt as though she were really talking to someone about it. She would love to meet the author of the book and have a real conversation with him. It would be so extremely interesting. 

She was jolted out of her thoughts when Draco said, "Hey, Zabini!"

"Yeah?" she asked.

Draco shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"What?" she asked defensively. 

"Nothing," he said smirking, before turning away from her. 

Blaise rolled her eyes and looked down. Ah. There was a letter. That must have been why he was trying to get her attention. She grabbed it, looking at the thing curiously. The parchment obviously wasn't that expensive, but she knew that didn't mean much. A lot of people had lost money during the war, especially Voldemort's supporters. She opened the letter…

_Dear Blaise Zabini,_

_I am extending an invitation to you to come to the Burrow for the Christmas holidays. I request that you think it over before accepting or refusing._

_Sincerely,_

_Molly Weasley_

Blaise's eyebrows rose in shock. She glanced over at the Gryffindor table, looking at Hermione. The Head Girl was watching her. Blaise raised a brow questioningly and got an answering smirk from the girl. Honestly. Where had she learned that? She sighed. Probably Draco. Not that it really mattered all that much. But the girl was scary enough as it was. Brilliant, of course—but also a bit scary. 

She turned back to the letter, reading it again. It was short and simple, but it got the point across. Hermione had probably requested it of Mrs. Weasley, as Blaise honestly didn't know the woman at all. Blaise pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of her bag, and scribbled a reply. She didn't need to think about it. She'd already made her decision.

_Dear Mrs. Weasley,_

_I thank you for inviting me to your home for the Christmas holidays, but I must refuse. _

_Thank you again,_

_Blaise Zabini_

She stood up, heading out of the Great Hall towards the owlery. She got there in record time, taking a few shortcuts. Just as she was reaching out to tie it onto the leg of her black raven-owl Moonsong, the letter was yanked out of her hand. She turned around, taken by complete surprise. It was Hermione Granger. 

The Gryffindor opened the letter and skimmed it. "I want you to go," she said, looking up.

"Hermione, I don't belong there. I'll stay here," Blaise said.

"Blaise…" Hermione sighed. "Look, you deserve a happy Christmas more than anyone. No offense, but you don't have a family anymore. You can have this one. The Weasleys are a wonderful family. I'm relatively certain that everyone is going to be there, all seven kids. Please?"

Blaise sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I'll go, but if I feel as though I'm interfering, I'm leaving."

"Fine," Hermione agreed, holding out a hand to shake. 

Blaise gripped it quickly, smiling at the Gryffindor. She watched the girl leave and pulled out another sheet of parchment, rewriting her reply.

_Dear Mrs. Weasley, _

_Thank you for inviting me to your home for the Christmas holidays. I accept your invitation._

_Sincerely,_

_Blaise Zabini_

Tying it to Moonsong's leg and apologizing for the interruption earlier, she set the owl off with a whispered good-bye and a bit of toast. She smiled as she watched the black bird fly off into the distance. Moonsong was a beautiful owl. 

Blaise sighed, turning away from the opening and heading down the stairs. She had Transfiguration next. Her partner, Seamus Finnigan, wasn't that bad, although he wasn't particularly skilled in Transfiguration. Then again, neither was she. 

She barely paid attention through the entire class, choosing instead to concentrate on her thoughts. She was going to the Weasleys' for Christmas. How…interesting. Strange, really. Who would imagine a Slytherin going to the Weasleys' house? Much less for Christmas… 

***

Blaise walked onto the Hogwarts Express with her luggage, checking the compartments until she came to the one she was looking for. "Blaise!" Hermione smiled, getting up to help the Slytherin with her bag. "How is everything?" she asked, sitting back down beside her boyfriend. 

Blaise glanced around the compartment. Weasley was sitting by the window, looking uncomfortable; Potter was sitting next to him, not paying any attention whatsoever; and Draco and Hermione were sitting across from them, Draco shooting uncomfortable glances at Ron every few minutes and Hermione just looking overall happy. Blaise sat down next to Potter, not wanting to get between the two lovebirds on the other seat. She glanced at the other occupants nervously. Weasley still wasn't paying attention to her, and Potter seemed distracted. 

There were a tense few minutes of silence before Potter stood up suddenly. "I'm going to go…walk around," he said, heading out the compartment door. 

Blaise watched him go before turning back to Hermione. "So." 

"What?" Hermione asked. 

"What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"I have no idea," Hermione replied. "He's been like that for the last week. It's annoying as hell."

"Hermione!" Ron gasped.

The Head Girl rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. You say much worse words."

"Yes, but I'm not a…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"A _girl_? Is that what you were going to say, Ron?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing.

Blaise watched the growing feud with curiosity and amusement. It was obvious that Weasley had stepped over a line. Sexism was apparently a serious issue with Hermione. It looked like Ron was going to regret making that remark. Even Draco was beginning to look amused. He looked slightly pitying as well. She smirked. The Head Boy had probably been on the receiving end of Hermione's tongue a few times himself.

She cringed. Ah. Wonderful image _that_ brought up. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the mental image. 

Instead she concentrated on the debate. After all, it wasn't often that one got to see Hermione take out Weasley.

***

Blaise got off the train, following Hermione, Draco, and the two Weasleys. Ginny had joined them near the end of the ride; she had apparently been spending time with her boyfriend, Neville Longbottom. He was going to his grandmother's for Christmas. They were heading towards a man with red hair and…were those dragon-hide pants?

Blaise slightly increased her speed, more intrigued now than ever. She watched the reactions of her companions with interest. The littlest Weasley, Ginny, spotted the man and gasped before dropping her luggage and running over to him. "Charlie!" she yelled, jumping into his arms. He spun her around, grinning. 

"You're getting too big for that, sprite," he grinned, setting the girl down as the rest of them neared. Weasley had picked up his sister's luggage and handed it to her when he reached them.  "Who are all these people?" he asked, grinning.

Ginny—honestly, it would get confusing it she called all of them Weasley—grinned at Charlie. "Oh, Charlie, you know Harry and Ron and Hermione, and I think you even know Draco. Remember? I think you saw him at the Quidditch World Cup in my third year."

Charlie smacked the heel of his hand onto his forehead, exaggerating the action so that Ginny giggled. "How could I forget?"

Ginny grinned. "But I guess you don't know Blaise, do you?" The sixth year walked over to Blaise and took her hand, pulling her over to Charlie. "Charlie, this is Blaise Zabini. Blaise, this is my brother, Charlie Weasley."

Blaise smiled, forcing down her nervousness, and held out a hand. Did he have to be so attractive? And he was wearing _dragon-_hide pants. Honestly. Were the Gods trying to kill her? Charlie looked at her, his gaze openly curious, before gripping her hand and giving it a firm shake. "Pleased to meet you," he said, giving her a small smile.

"And you," Blaise smiled back. She released his hand reluctantly, stepping back. Draco was looking at her curiously, a small smirk on his face. She glared at him and he held up his hands, giving her a, _What did I do?_ look. She just glared at him again before turning and following Charlie and the rest of her companions out of the portal and to a relatively nice but small car that was waiting outside. 

They all piled into it, and Blaise was certain that it had been tampered with magically, as there was enough room for all of them to sit comfortably. Ginny and Ron were sitting in the front seat with their brother, both talking to him animatedly. Blaise was sitting next to Hermione, who had Draco on her other side. They were talking quietly. Harry was next to Draco, but he was absorbed in his thoughts again. She sighed, feeling left out. Well, she'd known it would be that way, and she'd come anyways. One would think that Hermione was a Slytherin, the way she had so successfully convinced Blaise into coming to the Burrow for the holidays. 

***

The car stopped, and Blaise looked out the window. Her eyes focused on the house there…if it _was_ a house. It seemed ready to fall over, and was obviously magical. 

"Everyone out!" Charlie called, turning off the car. 

Blaise got out of the car, closing the door carefully. She retrieved her bag from the trunk, which Charlie had opened, and followed him into the house. Ginny and Ron were right behind her, talking to each other excitedly. She didn't know where Draco and Hermione were, but imagined they would be a while. Honestly; the two were even more lovesick _away_ from school. 

"Mum!" Charlie yelled, "I've got them!"

A slightly plump woman with red hair came into the room; Blaise scooted behind Charlie, not wishing to be seen just yet. She watched as the woman embraced Ron and Ginny before moving on to Hermione, who had just stepped through the door. She paused momentarily before engulfing Draco in a hug as well, and Blaise smirked at the shocked—but slightly pleased—look on Draco's face. "And where is Harry?" she asked.

"I'm right here," Harry said, coming through the door. 

The woman smiled again and hugged him as well, gushing about how much he'd grown, while the boy blushed almost as red as Mrs. Weasley's hair. "Oh," she paused. "But where is Blaise Zabini?"

Blaise swallowed slightly before stepping out from behind Charlie. "I'm right here, Mrs. Weasley," she said. 

The woman turned around, but the smile on her face turned to a look of shock, almost as though she had seen a ghost. "Aileen?" 

Blaise frowned. "One of my middle names is Aileen. Why?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "You just look like one of my best friends back at Hogwarts, Aileen Sinistra."

"My mother's last name was Sinistra before she married my father."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her. "You're the spitting image of Aileen. She and your mother, Catherine, right?" Blaise nodded. "She and your mother were fraternal twins."

Blaise frowned. "I don't have an aunt."

"She died," Mrs. Weasley whispered, "when she refused You Know Who's offer to join him. They probably don't speak of her because she was a Gryffindor. She was almost disowned when she was Sorted." Mrs. Weasley stared at her a few more seconds, memories flying through her head, before Charlie cleared his throat.

"Mom?" he said questioningly.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her son. "Oh! I'm so sorry," she said, glancing around at the other people in the room, all of whom were looking at her curiously. She glanced back at Blaise and stepped forward, giving the girl a hug. "We'll talk later, dear," the motherly woman whispered into her ear, giving her a kiss on the forehead. She wiped at her eyes and headed into the kitchen, talking animatedly about something or other. Everyone looked at her curiously.

"What?" she asked defensively.

Ron shook his head. "Nothing, Zabini."

Blaise rolled her eyes. "So," she said, "where are we sleeping?"

It turned out that she was sleeping with Ginny, along with Hermione, and Draco was sleeping with Harry and Ron in Ron's room. Charlie and Bill were in their old room, the twins still hadn't moved out, and Percy got a room to himself because of his work at the ministry. He, too, still hadn't moved away. 

Later that night, as the girls were sitting around on Ginny's bed playing a game of cards Hermione had taught them—something called "Oh Hell!" she'd said—Ginny looked at Blaise and said, "You like my brother, don't you?"

"Ron?" Blaise blanched. "Are you kidding?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, not Ron; Charlie."

Blaise felt a blush coming on and fought angrily to keep it at bay—but to no avail. Ginny grinned, knowing she was right. Hermione looked thoughtful. "You know, Gin, I think you're right…"

"Of course I'm right," the girl replied, her eyes sparkling. "When have you ever known me to be wrong?" she added imperiously.

Hermione grinned. "Well, there was that time in your Transfiguration class when you weren't paying attention and Profes—"

"Hermione!" Ginny gasped, blushing. She dropped her cards and attacked the Head Girl, who was laughing her head off. They both fell onto the floor and rolled around for a few minutes before they both came up, gasping.

Blaise started laughing. She laughed so hard, in fact, that tears came to her eyes. Ginny and Hermione joined in as well, and pretty soon all three girls were rolling around on the floor with laughter, all petty fights and grievances, house rivalries and old feuds, forgotten.


	3. Chapter 03

**Title:** Just One Kiss

**Summary:** Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin. It was all anyone ever noticed about her. Until him. Until the man who changed it all…

**Author's Note: **Wow. My summary sucks. Mental note: must change summary soon. Anyway, sorry this has been so long in coming. Most of it has been written for a while, I just needed to flesh it out. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** This isn't mine. What, did you expect me to _own_ it? This is called _fanfiction_ for a reason. It's posted on this site for a reason. Get over it. This isn't mine. At least, not really.

---

_Chapter 3_

Blaise stirred in the bed, her hand—which had until then been tucked under her cheek—coming up to swipe at some imaginary fly or feather. She frowned in near-wakefulness, trying unsuccessfully to stay asleep. Somehow she thought it would be easier, that there was something happening that she couldn't stop, and that it wouldn't stop once it was set in motion. Whether it was good or bad…she didn't know.

But this was all unconsciously. When she awoke, nothing was wrong… In fact, things couldn't have been more right. She was actually having a good Christmas vacation. She was in a house where everyone loved each other (well…most of the time at least) and respected each other (again, most of the time)… And she had a crush on Charlie Weasley.

She blushed beat red, even though no one was looking at her. How embarrassing. Well, not _really_. He _was_ good-looking, and he had a perfectly respectable job.

Blaise frowned. Wait a minute. How did she know whether he had a respectable job or not if she didn't even know what it was? At least, he looked as though he had a respectable job. Although where he got those dragon-hide pants… She sighed. She would have to find out.

She glanced at the other two beds; both girls, one red-haired and one brunette, were still asleep. It was only six or so in the morning, she noted, so it wasn't as though they were late. She was early. She always was; an early-bird, that is. It was rather… Well, annoying at times. While at school, she would usually go outside and take a walk. It was a nice way to stay in shape.

Blaise glanced out the window. It was a nice day. There was no reason why she couldn't take a walk today…

She walked down the stairs, being careful to step softly, not wanting to wake anyone up. As she neared the landing, she heard someone in the kitchen and headed towards it to take a look.

Mrs. Weasley was shuffling around, apparently getting ready for breakfast. She already had a few pans out and was currently mixing some batter with her wand. Blaise stepped into the kitchen. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," she said, smiling at the older woman.

The witch looked up, her face breaking into a smile when she saw Blaise standing in the entrance to the room. "Hello, Blaise! How wonderful to see you again," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily. "I'm just making breakfast; you can have a seat at the table over there."

"Do you mind if I watch you?" Blaise asked shyly, watching wide-eyed as Mrs. Weasley finished mixing the batter and began pouring it onto an iron of sorts while also directing about fifteen potatoes to begin washing themselves in the sink. "I-I've never seen anyone cook before."

Mrs. Weasley's happy demeanor dropped slightly. "You haven't? Well, what about your house-elves? You never watched them?"

Blaise shook her head, forcefully dragging her eyes back to Mrs. Weasley's. "Mother never let me see the house-elves, not even when they cleaned my room. I caught a few peeks of them when I was younger, but didn't see any after that. I only just began seeing them again last summer. My parents died last spring…" Blaise trailed off, feeling slightly uncomfortable, unsure whether she should be sharing this with the older witch.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to be hanging on Blaise's every word. The potatoes had slowly stopped scrubbing themselves and the batter had stopped pouring. "I know, dear; I heard about it."

"Mrs. Weasley…" Blaise said, walking over to the table and sitting down slowly. "I've been wondering—what was my aunt like?"

The older witch paused, setting down her wand and turning around. Her eyes were glistening as she stared at Blaise. "She was a wonderful girl," she said softly. "I miss her… She was Sorted into Gryffindor, as I told you yesterday. It caused quite the uproar—the Zabinis are an old Slytherin family, nearly as old as the Weasleys are Gryffindor."

Blaise nodded. Her parents had drilled it into her since she'd turned five and begun reading. _Hogwarts, a History_ and _Elliston's Guide to the Pureblooded Families of England_ had been her first books.

"She was a wonderful student. I'm certain that, if she had lived to her seventh year she would have made Head Girl, beating even your mother, who was the only person to come close to Aileen in grades." Mrs. Weasley sighed. "She was two years younger than I was, as is your mother. I didn't know her very well at first, but she was ready to join the Order when she came of age—but that was before You-Know-Who had her killed."

Blaise blinked, tears at the back of her eyes for some reason. This woman—_her aunt_—had stood up to the Dark Lord and refused his offer… An offer she had probably known refusing would mean death. After all, that was how the Dark Lord worked. If you were among the elite to be chosen as a follower of Voldemort, no one expected you to refuse. And if, odd as it may have seemed to them, you refused… Death was the only way to make sure you didn't talk.

"Oh, I felt so sorry for her," Mrs. Weasley sighed again, potatoes chopping and a pot coming to a boil on the stove. "First when I saw her sister's reaction after she was sorted, then when I heard the Howler she got the next day. And so many times after that, when she disappointed her family in one way or the other. The last time, obviously, was when she stood by her beliefs and refused You-Know-Who… If only because she hadn't been allowed to live out even a half-life." Mrs. Weasley glanced at her, immediately rushing over and giving Blaise a hug. "I'm sorry, dear. I got ahead of myself, I suppose. It's just that I haven't thought about her in so long, and now, you're sitting there, and you look just like her… It's a little difficult for me, but I can only imagine how hard it is for you."

"It isn't that bad, Mrs. Weasley, really. I didn't even know I had an aunt, and I'm grateful to you for that. I only wish she were alive today," Blaise said, looking out the kitchen window as Mrs. Weasley stepped back from her and looked her in the face.

"Well, I'm certain whatever is ailing us—" Mrs. Weasley's mouth turned up here—"can be taken care of with a cup of tea. I'll get right to it."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

"Call me Molly, dear."

"Molly, then."

---

Blaise had excused herself from Molly not two minutes earlier, to take her tea in the backyard when Ginny had stumbled downstairs half-awake and mumbling about being famished. Not that she didn't like Ginny, of course, it was just that, after such amazing revelations she needed some time to herself.

So, her entire family had not been evil. Only her mother and her mother's parents. Her aunt, apparently, had some good qualities—certainly good enough to be Sorted into Gryffindor, in any case.

Not that being Slytherin was bad, she reasoned. After all, she was Slytherin and she didn't consider herself evil. And in fact, she couldn't think of a single person in her year who was actually evil. Pansy was nice, though quiet, Draco was smart, smarmy, snake-like, and sarcastic, Crabbe and Goyle didn't have a brain between them—and to face the facts, you really needed a brain to be evil—and she…well, she knew, instinctively, that she wasn't evil.

But then, evil was such a hard to define word. She always thought of killing kittens and finding pleasure in it as evil, especially because it seemed like such a Dark Lord thing to do. Surely it was that simple…

Seven years in Slytherin House, however, had shown her that nothing could ever be that simple.

"Such a serious expression on a seventeen year old makes me worry. What could ever be so horrid?"

Well, if it wasn't Charlie Weasley. He was wearing trousers—not dragonhide, unfortunately—and a jacket with the collar turned up, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Of course, she was similarly avoiding the chill, which hadn't occurred to her until that moment. She shifted her toes experimentally in her slippers, a self-mocking smile coming to the corners of her mouth as she worked feeling back into them. It still hadn't snowed, but it was certainly cold enough to.

"Oh," she said flippantly, waving a hand through the air, "Nothing too terrible."

"That's good," he said. "It would be a pity to have heavy things weighing on your mind at your age."

"At my age? What's so special about my age?" Blaise asked, putting a hand—the one not holding her tea—on her hip.

Charlie shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and balancing on the balls of his feet, leaning forward slightly before falling back again. "I remember seventeen as a good age. It would be a pity to waste it."

"It is a good age," Blaise agreed, letting her hand fall from her hip and taking a sip of tea. "Boys are finally starting to get a clue and the bittersweet end of our Hogwarts era is near, making everything that much better."

"Precisely how I felt about it…" he agreed. "Except, of course, I had a clue a bit before that." He grinned at her.

"Of course, that's what you would say," she parried back at him, enjoying the light argument more than she would have imagined. "All you boys think there's nothing wrong with you whatsoever."

Charlie grinned, opening his mouth to respond, when a loud voice cut into their conversation.

"Breakfast!" Molly's voice came from the house.

"Excellent," Blaise sighed. "I'm starved." She started to walk towards the house, albeit slowly, as Charlie followed a step behind her.

"Mum's the best cook around, and her boiled breakfast potatoes are excellent."

"I hope there are still some left by the time we get inside," she laughed, as she heard the stairs pounding from the rest of the Weasley brothers.

"Don't worry," Charlie said, taking a few quick steps to get in front of her and open the door so she could walk through.

Blaise flushed lightly, trying to tamper her attraction to the older wizard. She wasn't even out of school yet… he probably didn't see her as anything more than, well, his brother's friend's friend. Which was, in fact, all she claimed to be. How old was he, anyway? He was probably much too old for her. Before she could stop herself (what kind of Slytherin was she, that she kept blurting things out?), she asked. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-five," he replied easily.

Luckily, they walked into the dining room and she was saved from saying anything further by Bill, who immediately came up to talk to Charlie. Although she was certainly thrilled for any conversation she was able to have with him, her mind went blank too often in his presence. As his brother pulled him away, Charlie looked back at Blaise and gave her a wink and a smile, wordlessly apologizing, she was sure.

She smiled back before going to join Ginny and Hermione, who had saved a seat for her between them. It was going to be an interesting Christmas holiday.


End file.
